


Twelve Hours

by heyheyitsmarissa



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Emotional Reuinion, F/M, Family Drama, First Meetings, Implied Torture, Island adventure, Missing Persons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:16:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyheyitsmarissa/pseuds/heyheyitsmarissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a failed assassination attempt, Jane Crocker wakes up on a mysterious island, only to find out... It's not mysterious at all! It turns out to be the island inhabited by none other than Jake English himself!</p><p>Instead of contacting her friends and family, she and Jake decide to take the opportunity to get to bond as "friends". He always tells her, "Twelve hours, and we'll contact everyone."<br/>But when twelve hours goes into another twelve hours cycle, and then into another, and then into another, things.... Things happen.</p><p>Meanwhile, Jane's father has round up an entire search party, extending across the entire United States! Dirk and Roxy find comfort in talking with Calliope and Caliborn, as well as each other, while facing the fact that they might never see their good friend Jane again...</p><p>But what happens if they actually DO find Jane? What will happen then?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bloodied Sand

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fanfic. The plot doesn't extend much. It will switch between being the characters and 3rd person. The mature rating hasn't exactly come into play quite yet.

Your name is Jane Crocker and holy shit your head hurts.

Not just hurts. KILLS.

You want to take a huge breath, but something large and covering your mouth prevents you from taking much. Your brain starts to become less cloudy as you awaken from your unconsciousness. You realize that you are face down, on the ground, and your body is spread eagle across the rough, coarse surface that you find yourself on. As your start to become more aware of your surroundings you come to the knowledge that you are face down on some sand. You lift your head up, and your glasses nearly fall off of your face.

A sort of groan comes from your mouth as you peel yourself up from the sand, feeling your clothes damp and cold from a supposed swim. You blink your eyes and see that the sand around you is dark, and not dark by the dimming light that is the setting sun. It is definitely blood that you see growing around you.

Now you know why your head hurts so badly.

You sit up on your knees and nearly fall over with a muffled scream. The sudden pressure on your knees stings with an insane bite. You fall over on your bottom, pressing your warmed skin against your chilled, wet clothing and examine your legs, fixing your glasses on your head. You rub your eyes underneath your frames and strain to see in the lowering light the sudden pain in your legs.

Your knees are completely scabbed over, and they are all red around the bloody wound. There is cherry red blood pouring down your pink flesh from other various cuts and bruises that litter your arms and legs and possibly even your body. You lift up your shirt and find yourself staring at three long scratches trailing from the side of your breast to your opposite hip bone. They sting, and are pink and raised, but they aren't as bloody as your skinned knees.

You would be completely paralyzed in pain if not for other things going through your mind.

It was another assassination attempt. Definitely. Although it's funny, you can't remember a thing. All you can remember was a boat, and suddenly water. Unfortunately, you are used to it by now. Or at least, you should be.

Pulling yourself up from the sand, you let the coarse, yet smooth sand soak in between your toes. You are barefoot. You observe your surroundings and nearly fall back down on your rump again.

You are on an island.

A beach, to be most specific. You don't remember the last time you were at a beach. You always found them relaxing. You turn around and face the sea, and expect to see land close by. You don't, and your heart sinks into Davy Jones' locker. It's nothing but a gray abyss, but the sunset sure brings yourself some good of a feeling. You remember the last time that you were at a beach. It was a vacation, with your father. You had such a lovely time.

Your father...

Oh Christ in a handbasket, he must be freaking out right now. It was morning the last time that you remember. Hours have gone by. You start to panic slightly, but you know that you have to keep calm in order to survive.

Survive...

That word scares you a little bit.

Taking a few steps, you start to feel the hardness of the sand start to take a number on your seemingly gelatinous legs. There is a huge, towering jungle not too far from where you are standing. The trees tower and seem to connect with each other in a canopy. You want to fly up there so badly. You want to, but you know that you can't. You want to talk to someone. You want to contact your father. You want to let them know that you are alive.

Quite frankly, you want to go home.

You stop for a moment and realize a large ribbon of orange light starts to wrap around the vegetation, right in front of your very eyes. You whip around and stare back out into the horizon. It wasn't a sunset at all. It was a sun RISE.

You panic. You've been gone an entire day! Oh God, now you know your father is steaming angry and upset. He gets angry and upset if you leave the house for too long! In an instinct your hand flies to your skirt pocket, and your fingers touch something hard and square.

Your phone!!

Happy tears in your eyes you whip the cellular device from your pocket and frantically start pressing the button to turn it on. At first, the screen stays black, and you begin to think that you just didn't hit the button hard enough. Readjusting your weak grip, you launch your thumb down on the button, feeling the click of the plastic down into its base. Nothing happens.

With shaking hands you open the back of the phone and a few thin streams of seawater drips from the battery pack. It's no use. Your phone is completely useless in this situation now.

Your heart nearly up your throat you throw your phone down in the sand in frustration. You can't believe it. Any sort of chance you had to be rescued is gone. It's enough to make you cry. But you stop the hot tears from coming down your glasses, as crying has never accomplished anything. You think about screaming into the morning coming, letting all your frustration come out in the form of your voice.

You realize it is nonsense...

...yet you can't resist.

Throwing your head back, you let out an extremely pitiful wail, your voice echoing into the growing light. Your voice peaks and rasps a little bit as your volume becomes consistent. Tears try and escape your eyes, but you throw your eyelids shut before they can run down the sides of your face. Everything starts to lift off your chest. The abandonment, the pain, the confusion, everything starts to run off into the sky like ice off hot pavement on a humid summer day. You feel better after you quiet. You hold your breath and stare at the sunrise and wonder if that was going to be the last scream you were ever going to emit from your mouth.

You aren't too sure.

Puffing out your chest like a lady and sticking your chin high against the circumstances, you turn yourself around, and walk towards an open mouth in the jungle vines, fully ready to face your possible death.

\---------------------------

Your name is Jake English and the morning has treated you fairly well, considering the news that you were given yesterday. You decided to rise early for the day, out of a strange coincidence. When you rolled out of bed in just your boxers, you just couldn't believe you could actually feel your legs. Yesterday had not faired you well, at all. Frantic, Roxy had sent you messages in her usual mistyping demeanor saying something you couldn't quite understand.

It took you an hour of pure thinking just to understand the words Roxy was trying to blubber out.

But it hit you like a ton of bricks so hard you thought you were going to get a concussion just by thinking about it. It had all been so sudden. You had never expected for that to happen. You prayed silently that nothing would ever happen to her. You knew the dangers that came with being the heiress to the company that was Betty Crocker. You knew she was always attempted to be killed.

You knew that, and she as well.

It didn't help the burden that she was kidnapped and possibly banging on death's door as you thought about her... or how normal things were before she had disappeared after she had said she was to make herself some breakfast yesterday morning. You had no idea that things had gotten that severe. You had just assumed that her power had gone out randomly, and she was not to be on until later.

You had absolutely no idea she had been taken right out from under him.

You had paced your room for hours on end last night. You couldn't bother to go out into the jungle. You were so numb that you didn't feel as though you would react in ample time should you come across a frightening beast....or even worse...

You put that out of your mind for a moment, and continue focusing on Jane. Where was she right now? Was she alive? Was she attempting to contact her father or one of them on Pesterchum? You throw on your Skulltop only for a moment to check your online chums and give yourself a moment to adjust your eyes to the Skulltop. Nobody is online. You take off the device and toss it on your bed, rubbing your arms up and down.

You dress yourself quickly, throwing on your shorts and belt. You place your guns in your holsters before grabbing your shirt to put it on your body. You turn to face yourself in the mirror and look at you. You are nothing special. This you know. Your face is thin and your body is hardly as muscular as you want it to be. You are tall, and it's apparent of that. Your grandmother has always told you that you were to be exceptionally tall. You hoped to be as tall as her, but at this moment you don't remember what she looked like let alone her height.

You wonder what a human feels like, after all these years. It has been a very long time since you have felt skin that wasn't your own. Even then, you know a human skin has a different feel depending on the body. You can't wait to just...touch a person's hand...or face...

You dismiss this for now and throw on your shirt and jacket. Making sure your guns are loaded, just in case of an emergency, you jump down your stairs and rush out the door. Bursting through the hidden entrance in the trees, you pause for a moment. something shivers up your spine and leaves cold shocks running through your skin. You're not sure why. You just stop and listen.

There are the usual magpies and birds that fancy floating around the canopies. The creatures that prowl among the vines sound their usual call. Everything seems quiet for now, but a sort of echo hits your ears. Was it a scream?

What would scream loud enough to cause an echo? You are baffled by this strange noise. You start to contemplate the possible outcomes. Was there an animal in danger? Perhaps suffering? Was it edible and could it be used to his advantage?

Either way, it sounded hurt. You begin walking down an all familiar path towards the source of the cry, praying that it was silenced by the time you arrived at the poor soul creating such a heart-breaking sound.


	2. Drunken Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane attempts to explore the island while Jake goes to explore the source of the scream that paralyzed him as he left his house. Meanwhile, Dirk and Roxy start to get nervous, and try to contact Jake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I don't know how to do pesterlogs, so sorry if this gets confusing. I honestly do not have a patience to do all the coding and stuff.

Jane Crocker seemed to be walking aimlessly for hours. The sun had come up, and thankfully she didn't have to deal with the hot warmth of the day beating down her back all the time. The canopy trees were just enough for her to keep cool. 

She had bitten her lip so much when her pain in her legs flared up that now it too was bleeding. Sweat poured down her brow as she continued to walk up an old, overgrown path. The hill was steep, yet manageable. 

The vines were green and healthy. She knew that there was no possible way that this island was suffering from a drought or had been in the past.

The dirt under her bare, sore feet was moist. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she fell down every incline that she had dug her toes into. 

Reaching out her hand to grab a strong, rooted in vine just outside the range of the path, she wrapped her fingers around it and began to pull herself up the slope. She stumbled a little bit up the mound, instinctively pulling all her weight against the vine. As it became slack in her hands her mind raced to figure out what to do next. She couldn't find any roots that were strong enough to hold her. 

Knowing that falling backwards could very well dislocate her shoulder if fallen the wrong way, she released her iron grip on the root and fell forward, digging her nails into the dirt. She fell forward, smashing her chest against the green dirt and sliding down again slightly. Jane let out a breathy "Oof!" as she felt her shirt ride up and the damp soil start to rub against her already injured skin.

She froze every muscle in her body as she prayed not to slide any farther. One wrong move, and there would be more injuries for her to deal with.

She held her breath as she brought herself to her knees and elbows, again biting her lip to silence her skinned knees' pain receptors.  
"This is total bullshit..." She muttered to herself under her breath.  
Pulling herself up on her feet once again, she gripped the earth with the balls of her feet and continued up the incline.

\----------------------

Alternatively, Jake English walked not too far away from where the poor girl found her situation.

His hand cautiously at his holster in case any sort of trouble should appear, he made his way down his marked path. He always had a set schedule of which he had been taught to follow. It was to the traps, to the clearing, check the beach traps, and then the spring to wash up.

After that, it would all depend on what the traps would bring before he settled at home for the night.

Feeling the small twigs and leaves snap underneath his boots, he pays only attention to two things: Jane and the potential suffering creature whose wails had paralyzed him moments after he had left his abode.

He almost felt sorry for the poor thing, if he knew that it was probably best the weak were destroyed from the food chain. Whatever happened, its loss would be his gain. 

The smell of the fresh woods filled his nostrils as he brushed away some stray branches that had fallen in the path with his foot. It was strange though. How in the name of all that he knew did that happen? There definitely wasn't a thunderstorm, or any amount of wind that would bring down the number of branches Jake had to move.

He growled and pushed yet another branch out of his path. Just then, something vibrated in his pocket. His phone.

Whipping it out, he prayed silently to himself that it was Jane’s handle that he was going to see light up. But it wasn’t. It was Roxy’s. A few moments later, the chat window appears from the pink texted teenager.

\----tipsyGnostalgic began pestering golgothasTerror----

TG: jake i haev somethign 2 tell u

TG: *have

TG: *something

GT: I know what you meant to say, rox. What do you wish to say?

TG: its about janey

Jake’s heart nearly jumped up his throat. He leaned against the nearest tree trunk and fumbles to type out a response.

GT: What about her? *rubs glasses*

TG: weeeeelll i wuz the telebidion

TG: *television

TG: lol

GT: Har har. Did you see anything of her?

TG: not of her but i saw her father is roundin up a serch partee or somethin

TG: *search

Jake couldn’t tell whether that was good news or if that was bad news. Either way, it didn’t put him to rest that Jane was still missing. He didn’t respond.

TG: dude itz hit nashinoal news within an our

TG: *national

GT: GADZOOKS! *wipes brow with handkerchief*

TG: im so worried jaek about janey she gotta be so scared r/n

GT: I am worried too, roxy. I am very very worried about her i didnt think i would be but i cant stop thinking about the poor girl. :(

TG: waoh

TG: woah

TG: jaek u thinkin bout janey? :3

GT: Of course i am! Why wouldnt i think about my good chum who is potentially in peril?

TG: ;3

GT: *loosens collar* THIS MOST CERTAINLY IS NOT THE TIME FOR US TO TALK ABOUT THIS SUBJECT JANE IS IN DANGER.

GT: POSSIBLY DEAD.

TG: ;3 necropheelia is illegal in soceity, jake

TG: *necrophilia lol

GT: You are a very sick girl, rox. But you sure do know how to make a fellow laugh.

TG: i wasnt joking lol

GT: . . .

TG: lmoa

\---- golgothasterror ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic ----

Jake grumbled low in his throat as he put his phone away and continued down the path. He knew that there would be a long ways to go before this whole thing settled down. Something in his body went numb though as he thought about Jane.

Was she dead?

Was she dying?

Oh God, he pleaded that that wasn’t the case. He really didn’t want to see his friend lying in a casket. He didn’t want to hear from Roxy that she had been found, but not alive.  
Going about his daily business, a sort of scene started to play out in his mind.

He could imagine him getting back to his Skulltop after a hot day out in the jungle adventuring when he would see the clearly drunken text of one Roxy Lalonde. It would take him a little bit of reading before finally coming to the realization that she was trying to babble out something important. Jane was dead.

He would have to find a way off the island and make it to her for the funeral. If he had to, he would build a raft made of wood and float all the way there. He was sixteen. He could handle himself. Or at least, he thought he could.

He thought of him arriving at the funeral home, her father dressed in all black. He would recognize him immediately. He would be the one smoking the pipe, one hand on his daughter’s partially open casket. He wouldn’t look at anybody, not even him as he came walking through the door. He would definitely dress his best, doing the best he could to borrow a suit.

Bypassing the grieving line he would make his way to the two teenagers in the corner, sitting in the two most uncomfortable looking chairs on the face of planet earth. They wouldn’t look up at him, but he would recognize them immediately. There would be Dirk in his glasses, looking at his feet trying to keep that poker face whose reputation has always been pristine.

He wouldn’t do much but look at Roxy’s baggy eyes. She would at least try and stay sober for this. Although, there is presence that the night before, she had done nothing but drink until she had forgotten why she had begun drinking in the first place.

Then…up to the casket.

She would look so peaceful just laying there, her eyelids shut gently. Her tiaratop would be settled nicely on her head, her hair sweetly prepared. Her lips would be icy and white. Her hands folded across her chest, Jake couldn’t help but begin to feel the ashy skin underneath his fingers.

Snapping out of his morbid thought, he had somehow found his way to the stream. It was a beautiful spot, a deep, but not overwhelming clear pool of water surrounded by flat, dry rocks and a natural, dazzling waterfall. He loved the spot. He always thought it was his.

But something made him freeze. Something moved in the thicket in front of him. An animal? Could it have been that suffering creature that had cried out into the morning? He couldn’t see very well; he was too far back.

Drawing his pistols he walked forward and began to see a white and blue figure crouching over into the stream. A bird perhaps?

He approached the figure and saw that it wasn’t a bird.

It was a human.


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Jane finally meet.
> 
> But after ten years of human isolation, how will Jake take meeting Jane? Especially when everyone thinks that she is dead! And finally accepting the fact he might have developed feelings for her!
> 
> And what of Jane? Has she continued her feelings for him? Will she contact her family and friends the first chance she gets? Probably not, but what will the two do when they finally realize their situation?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! Here we go!

You are now Jane Crocker.

The water feels cool on your face as you scoop your hands into the pure water and let the small droplets of crisp liquid drip down the tips of your fingers and then back into the immaculate pool. Some of the water dribbles down the back of your neck and sends a pleasing shock up your spine.

You can't help but let out a breathy "Ahhhh...." as the shocks cool you down.

You debate stripping down to your intimates and jump completely in. You wonder how good that will feel. It would feel almost breath-taking, that you are sure of. Feeling the blood and worries of the day wash away as the waterfall completely soaks your head and gives your shoulders a deep massage....

You almost do so.

But at this moment you are a bit preoccupied with just parching the dry, scratching sensation that was thirst. It gropes your throat like a demon's grip. You cup your hands again and dip down towards the water and grab a healthy scoop of liquid. You suck the liquid from your palms and a sort of hunger grips you suddenly. You keep going down and back up again to keep the liquid flowing down your throat.

You almost make yourself sick, and your almost certain that you have drunk enough to drown a horse.

You arch your back back up to its original position, sitting on your legs. Your ear twitches as you hear something snap behind you. The fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight as you look straight ahead, frozen in fear.

Something blunt and metallic lightly taps both sides of your head.

"Don't move." A low, serious voice commands you. Everything in your body tenses, and your muscles freeze over.

Oh God...

Is it your assassin?

Damned, if you know.

"Stand up slowly and put your hands up." The voice sounds slightly shaky. It definitely isn't as threatening as once thought. Nevertheless, you do not want to underestimate your attacker.

You put your hands up, and the water that you were once holding splashes down into the pool with a slight plop. The excess drips down your arms and hands, and the coolness still lingering, soothes your cuts and aching arms.

You try and get your legs to move, but something makes you stop. You try and move your thighs but they won't. You wiggle your toes. You cannot feel them. Either your feet has fallen asleep, or you have become fully aware of the extensive injuries you have sustained.

You hear a small gasp from behind you, possibly coming from your assailant. You bite your lip and await for him to say something to you. You don't want to turn and face him. You do not want the risk of being killed.

"I said... I said stand up!" The voice stutters.

It's young, similar to the voices she is used to hearing every day. A thought goes through your mind... But you completely dismiss it. It couldn't possibly. That's stupid. Don't even think that. Stop getting your hopes up you stupid girl.

"I can't!!" You manage to squeak out, in a voice that isn't entirely your own.

You feel the metal of the weapon the person behind you slowly drift to the back of your neck. It makes goosebumps run down your arms. The person holding the guns watches as the little bumps appear on your skin. You shut your eyes as you feel the small hairs tweak at your senses. It continues to trail down until it's touching the collar of your shirt. Suddenly, it disappears.

Your defenses lower.

"What is your name, miss?" The word "miss" makes yet another shutter run up your spine. Only one person in the world that you know would ever call you "miss". But no. No you stop that right now. It's not... It can't be.

"I do not think I should tell you that." You reply, your voice returning to its natural sound.

There is a long, tense silence as you hear the person behind you return his guns to his holsters. You know that's what he is doing. You can hear him unloading the gun and putting the defensive weapon back in his holders.

"Turn around." He says. "I...if you can."

With every ounce of your strength you bring yourself to stand up. Your legs are a little bit numb but you are determined to hold your ground in front of your assailant. You watch your footing as you try and turn around. You don't want to look at that person who had pointed the gun at you. You don't want to see his face if he decides to go rouge again and put a bullet between your eyes.

Nearly facing forward, your foot lifts off the ground just a few inches to keep doing the pivot around. But when you put your foot down again, there is nothing. No rock. No surface. Nothing. Your weight, already shifted towards the foot with no support, starts falling back.

Your ears go blank. Your vision starts looking up into the canopies. You await any moment for the rocks to come meeting up to your head. You await that blinding flash of light that comes with death. You await for your life to flash before your eyes. You await everything.

But something jerks you back.

You look down and see a hand grabbing your shirt with a white knuckled grip. You follow the arm up to the shoulder it is connected to, and then to the body, to the neck, to the head, and to the face.

The face of the person holding you from certain injury is somewhat familiar to you. Could he really be your assailant? No. No he most certainly is not! He has dark hair, swept in different ways that makes you wonder how similar it is to your own style. He has rectangle spectacles on, and the green eyes that dazzle behind the prescribed glass are widened with fear and uncertainty.

His mouth hangs open slightly, showing his two front teeth are slightly larger than the average size. His face has frozen into one of complete terror as he breathes slightly hard. He can't understand what he is doing. He can't understand what he is seeing.

"JAKE?!" You scream suddenly, your breathing and heart rate quickening by the second.

He licks his lips and extends his other arm and grabs the slack fabric from your shirt again. He yanks you forward, and you are brought back on your feet. He lets go of you suddenly, and you stumble backwards, but not enough to wiggle your way back into the situation you were just literally pulled out of.

He stumbles backwards and his hands reach towards his gun.

"Golly gee I must be dreaming. I must have hit my head on the rocks or some sort of tomfoolery..." He averts your gaze and throws his hands to his head. "I am most certainly hallucinating. Oh gosh what was in that fruit I ate today...?"

You break his ramblings just enough to step forward. "Jake... Is it really you?" Your voice cracks over as you ground out the syllables.

"No no no!" He finally yells. "You're a figment of my imagination! You're dead! Or at least missing! You were kidnapped! Killed!!! It's not you! It can't possibly be you!! IT CAN'T! IT CAN'T!!!"

You step forward to rush to his mental aid. You stop inches away from his face. He looks at you, pupils dilating out of control from looking every which way. He is clearly breathing wildly. He continues to babble nonsense.

"And now that it might be you I just wanted to say some things and I am totally baffled I mean Christ in a handbasket I am just full of emotions I swear on everything that is sacred in this goddamn world if you are who I fucking think you are then this is my actual sort of human contact after ten years ten years oh my goodness..."

His cheeks begin to flush a sort of pink. It isn't exactly prominent under his slightly tan skin. His cheeks are thin and his jawline is masculine. But now, at his most vulnerable time, he looks as though he is merely a child, even younger than he actually seems.

You outstretch a hand and place your damp palm across his extremely warm cheek. You feel the skin of another human being underneath your fingertips, and it is a welcoming sensation. He calms immediately. He turns his head slightly into your palm quizzically, and you feel the delicate skin of his lips press slightly against your skin. He turns back to face you, his voice now completely quiet.

He reaches up his own hand and covers yours. He strokes his fingers along yours, experimenting the feeling. It sends a slight shiver up your arm, and goosebumps arise on your flesh once more. He looks down and with his other hand, strokes the goosepimples with the back of his hand. It makes your fingers twitch slightly, and he gasps a little bit with your fleeting touch. You can't help but shake a little bit as you experience his, something in your emotions feeling right.

"..." He opens his mouth to speak again, and you feel his jaw move underneath your palm. "Jane...?"


End file.
